A Story of Wolves
by KMstories
Summary: Remus Lupin is out of money. His oldest friend has just sent him a letter, offering him a place in his mother's old home. With his new home comes a reunion with old friends, new challenges and responsibilities, and even new relationships. This is a story of wolves, and those who love them.
1. Chapter 1

Remus Lupin was running out of savings. His inheritance and his saved wages from his brief job as a teacher were drying up quickly. He jingled the jumble of silver sickles stuffed in his robe pocket habitually as he tried clear his mind of his impeding helplessness as he sipped on his morning coffee and read a discarded copy of the previous day's Daily Prophet in a small booth at the Leaky Cauldron. He had been doing the exact same thing yesterday morning, only without the 15 knut coffee when his saving grace flew into his lap, saving him from true homelessness and starvation just in the nick of time, just as tended to happen. It was an owl, a borrowed Hogwarts Screech Owl from the looks of it, delivering him Sirius's offer. Sirius explained that Dumbledore had suggested he move into his childhood home in London, of which Sirius was the legal owner. He told Remus he was beginning to see it as his only option, as he wanted a place Harry could visit eventually, and he, like Remus, was unemployable and unable to afford anything else. He tentatively asked Remus if he wanted a spare bedroom, delicately skirting around the fact that he was basically homeless. Sirius was sure to implore that he would truly enjoy Remus's company, as the house was a horribly depressing and gloomy place.

Remus had written back immediately, bribing the unhappy owl with his breakfast bacon to bring his answer to Sirius. He had one more night before he would be chucked from the Inn for nonpayment, and his old friend had saved him from a future of sleeping on the street. He was used to needing sink to the help of friends and family, his helplessness hardly bothered him anymore. Besides, he thought excitedly, it wouldn't be so bad to live with Sirius, it would be like old times in the Gryffindor dormitory. Of all the times he had to accept the help and pity of others, this was the one he was most looking forward too.

He was just finishing the last few clues of the crossword the paper's previous owner hadn't gotten when an owl from Dumbledore came through the window of the inn and landed on his shoulder. He had been sent the location of the house on a bit of parchment so he could gain access. He grinned at the paper and gathered his small bag of belongings and stepped outside to apparate to his old friend's home.

The front door stood cracked open, which gave Remus a feeling of ominous suspicion and foreboding as his slipped through the open door into the dark room, wand alit. Someone suddenly clapped him hard on the back from behind and he jumped, wand ready and alert until he heard a familiar barking laugh. Sirius clapped him on the back again and sent beams of light from a metal device in his hand to six torches lining the entranceway, making them burst alive, showering the room in a ghostly orange glow.

"How you've been, Moony?" he chuckled.

Remus sighed a breath of relief and couldn't help but to smile at in spite of himself. He shook his head.

"Got here just a second before you did, haven't looked around yet," Sirius told him, looking down the long foyer into his childhood home. He sighed reservedly at the sight. The place was truly gloomy and depressing. Everything was covered in sheets and thick layers of dust, with the look of having been untouched in decades. Ornate cobwebbed chandeliers and strange decorations and ornaments lined every wall, giving the fire lit room is distinctly creepy atmosphere. The air of the ancient house smelled strongly of mold and mothballs, and Remus could hear the feet of skittering rats.

"Horrid place, isn't it?" Sirius asked.

"Well it won't be so bad; we'll clean up as we go…"

"…and throwaway all this pureblood-mania crap."

"Right," Remus assured him. He had no room to complain, he had stayed in worse, and in none of them had he lived with a friend. The goal was to make the place livable, and the most important component to that was keeping Sirius in good spirits about moving back into the home he hated. He had listen to Sirius half madly rant about the home and his family during their school years enough to know that this was not a welcome reunion.

"Dumbledore wrote me that you volunteered this place as Order headquarters, and that Harry and the Weasleys will come stay later in the summer," he said, changing the subject to something happier.

"Which'll be just about the only helpful thing I'll be able to do," Sirius answered bitterly, but he sighed resolutely and heaved his bag up the dusty staircase to his old bedroom, motioning for Remus to follow him. Plumes of dust erupted at each of his heavy steps up the old staircase. Sirius threw open the door to one room, pausing in the doorway for a moment. He signed and entered it, dragging his heavy bag behind him. He pointed out Regulus's bedroom for him, which was just across the hall. Remus inspected his new room, a grandiose bedroom that had fallen into serious disrepair. But it was no matter to Remus, he had stayed in much worse. He was dusting off a shelf to place his small collection of robes and books when he heard Sirius call for him.

"Moony, come here and get a load of some of these!" he called from his bedroom. Remus walked through the doorway and broke into laughter at the scene. Sirius's old bedroom was plastered floor to ceiling in Gryffindor banners, unmoving posters of scantily clad muggle girls and motorcycles, and violently bright Quidditch flags. Even the ceiling had a life sized poster of a muggle girl in a red swimsuit hung above the bed. The room was so absurdly tacky and different from the rest of the home that he laughed at how angry the parents Sirius constantly complained about must have felt about it. He could imagine his 16 year old friend using permanent sticking charms on the walls, laughing proudly and shaking his long hair.

"Very nice, I don't know what else I would've expected from Padfoot," he chuckled, turning towards Sirius, who was examining the door of the wardrobe. Sirius looked back at him, eyes twinkling in amusement.

"I still think it's cool," he shrugged and grinned, unashamed.

"Right, I forgot you stopped maturing at 16." He walked over to join Sirius at the wardrobe door, which was plastered with hundreds of small photographs. He stood silently for moment, taking as many in as he could. They were all from Hogwarts, back when they were students. Dozens and dozens of Polaroid snapshots taken during Sirius's particularly annoying wanna-be-photographer stage covered the door. His own young face beamed up at him everywhere as he swayed and laughed with his teenage friends. Sirius smirked and nudged him to look at a picture on the top row.

"That time when we snuck into Honeyduke's in the middle of the night," he sniggered. The photograph was of James, smiling triumphantly into the camera, just as the owner of the shop was bursting in the front door behind him. The picture showed Wormtail and Jame's faces fall and their eyes widen with panic as they whipped around. Sirius yanked up the camera to run and photograph became a blurred image of their panicked faces as they ran. Remus laughed at the memory, his eyes resting on James's smiling face. The glimmer his eyes was haunting.

"I think that was our closest call ever."

"You refused to go out with us for two weekends after that, you were so scared!"

"Well I was a prefect; I had way more to lose."

"Yeah alright, Mr. Prefect."

They laughed at more memories on his walls before it began to become too painful to recall stories, so they only looked. They both seemed unwilling to get themselves down now, it seemed almost wrong to be sad in front of the photographs. The teenagers in them were so happy, it felt insanely as though their teetering grief could affect them and make them go away if they were to let it show. And Remus knew he didn't want the pictures and the memories to go.

"You know Dumbledore's stopping in later to talk to us?" Sirius asked, changing the subject, determined to keep the mood light as they made their way down the massive staircase.

"Is he? Why's that?"

"Oh probably just planning, instructions for me to stay put, it's about all I've gotten out of him these past few weeks."

"Still, that means the Order will be meeting here soon."

"Oh yeah," Sirius stopped as they reached the bottomZ , hitting Remus hard on the chest as he remembered something. Remus had forgotten about that bad habit of his. "My cousin, Nymphadora, apparently she's an auror now, she's coming by later. I haven't seen her since she was about eight, so I don't know what to expect. She used to worship me though. She's AUGH!"

A withered old house elf covered in the same layer of dust as the rest of the house had just emerged from the wall-or so it seemed. The house elf was so ancient, dirty, and leathery looking that they had both passed by him on their way up the stairs and had not noticed that it wasn't part of the morbid décor.

"YOU! Disgraced, disloyal son of Mistress!"

"I don't bloody believe it!" Sirius jumped at the sudden appearance of the elf, a look of utter revulsion mixing with shock on his face. "You're still alive?"

"Kreacher lives to serve the noble House of Black. Not blood traitors, they are not noble Blacks. Oh how you hurt her. Oh if she could see you now!"

"Of all the dead creatures I expected to come across in this old dump, your corpse was the one I was looking forward to finding, Kreacher!"

"Mistress doesn't know. Oh how Mistress would cry. Kreacher must tell Mistress though, he is defiling her house," the house elf muttered to himself, wringing his hands insanely in his dirty loincloth.

"Your mistress is dead," Sirius told him flatly, still looking at the dirty old elf in disgust.

Kreacher turned and ran up the stairs on his bowed stiff legs, bounding ridiculously towards a two large moth eaten curtains. Realization spread over Sirius's face as he watched the elf go.

"Kreacher N…!"

But it was too late. Kreacher ripped open the dark curtains, and they flew open and flung him into a pathetic heap on the landing. The curtains revealed an enormous portrait of a harsh looking hook nosed witch who seemed just as surprised to see them as they were to see her. Her eyes widened maniacally as she spotted Sirius, her pale face reddened with anger.

"YOU! BLOOD TRAITOR, SCUM OF MY HOME, VILE FILTHY MUGGLE LOVER, DEFILING MY HOME…" the woman in the portrait screamed, shaking in her frame in anger, spitting in fury.

"Merlin!" they said together. Sirius took out his wand and attempted to stun the painting, but missed, causing a definite increase in the volume of the woman's screaming.

"HOW DARE HE! HOW DARE HE! FILTHY TRAITOR, FILTHY MUGGLE LOVER DEFILING MY HOME, ATTACKING THE NOBLE HOUSE OF BLACK!"

Following Sirius's lead Remus shot another stunning spell at the painting, hitting the portrait squarely between the eyes.

"Nice one, Moon," he complemented as he wrentched the stubborn curtains back closed over the portrait, "isn't my mother a charmer?" He smiled sickly. Remus and his old friend set to work on trying to remove the horrid portrait, as it was clearly the most important thing that needed to be cleaned or removed to make the house habitable. Remus pored over books on household spells he found throughout the house while Sirius tried every random destructive incantation he could think of, some causing such loud explosions that he awoke his mother again. Finally, after trying everything from blasting curses to acidic potions poured down the wall behind the painting, they gave up the fight on the portrait. They were admitting their defeat just as the doorbell rang, which unfortunately set Mrs. Black off all over again.

"Dammit, get the door Moony, I'll get her this time, that's probably Nymphadora."

Remus did as he was told and left the screaming painting for Sirius to handle, his ears were ringing with her repeated screams. He threw open the door incautiously in his frustration, which was quite unlike his normal careful self. The witch standing on the other side of the door jumped at the sudden movement and nearly fell off the front stoop in her surprised retreat.

"I'm sorry," he apologized, feeling quite foolish for ripping open the door and scaring her. The young witch had short violet hair and deep purple robes to match, and she went distinctly red in the face as he apologized, and Remus could have sworn he saw a wave of pink go through her purple hair, but he figured he must have imagined it. The screaming behind him finally ceased.

"You must be Nymphadora," he asked.

"It's Tonks, Nymphadora is a rubbish name," she said defiantly, eyeing the inside of the dark home over his shoulder.

"Right, well come in then," he stepped aside to let her inside.

"And you are…?" she asked, eyes narrowed in suspicion

as she shuffled past him anyway.

"That's my dear friend Moony," came a deep voice from the hallway. Sirius had appeared, a wide grin on his gaunt face as he took in the sight of his adult cousin. Tonks gave a shriek and ran to give him a tight hug around the neck. Sirius took her in his arms and swung her around, grunting and holding his back as he put her back down again.

"That was much easier when you were five."

"I always knew it couldn't be true!" she squealed.

"What?"

"My only cool cousin was no murderer. I always knew," she told him with a certain finality and triumph in her voice.

"Did you now?" he asked, laughter dancing on his voice. "You would be just about the only one, so I'm honored. Come on then Nymph…"

"Tonks," she interrupted sternly.

"Tonks and Remus. If there's one thing my parents were good for, it was their selection of good drinks." He ushered the pair into the dark kitchen, a small spring in his step. He seemed to be ready to make new memories happen, now that he was free. Remus smiled after him, glad that he seemed determined to have some fun after his twelve years of imprisonment. Sirius danced into the kitchen, lighting the chandelier and cobwebbed sconces as he passed with a flick of his small silver instrument. The lightly revealed a long wooden table in the middle of a dark and ornately decorated cook's kitchen. Sirius marched up to a tall black cabinet with intricately carved silver serpent handles that snaked up its doors. He threw it open and began rummaging through it, glass tinkering. He emerged with two dusty glasses and brown bottle so covered in dust the label was unreadable.

"Aha!" he laughed, "my parent's wedding gift, to be gifted to their first son on his wedding day," he blew the thick coating of dust off the label, revealing a blood red crest of a vicious looking bird. "I think now is as good a time as ever for it, don't you think, Remus?"

Happy to see him in good spirits and frankly wanting a drink himself after the debacle with the portrait, he agreed and took the glasses from Sirius to rinse out with water from his wand. Then he froze fresh water into two ice cubes for each glass.

"Maybahn's Old Whisky," he whispered with excitement as he poured a glass for Remus with a flourish, "liquid gold, they say, those lucky few who have tried it," he poured a glass for himself, "a gift from the almighty Slewyns themselves." He stopped suddenly as he approached Tonks's glass. "How old are you again? Thirteen, fourteen?" he asked with a mischievous grin. Remus could have sworn again that he saw a flash of blue run through her hair, but he blamed his imagination again. She looked thoroughly put out as she heatedly explained that she was an adult, until she noticed Sirius's sly grin.

"You mustn't take anything he says too seriously, ironically," Remus told her as she was poured a glass by her cousin. Sirius plopped himself heavily onto the bench next to Tonks and raised his glass of whisky.

"To freedom, good health, to new and old friendships, and taking those damn Death Eaters down," he sloshed his glass in the air, and Tonks and Remus met his, clinking glasses and drinking to his toast. The drink was truly as amazing as Sirius predicted. It was like smooth, warm honey running down his throat, warming him from the inside. He felt an immediate sense of ease wash over him. He felt giddy with comfort and good feeling. The room seemed brighter, and he seemed lighter and burden free. The three sat back and enjoyed the sensation for a moment in silence. Sirius immediately filled their cups again.

"Moony, was it?" she asked him, turning her violet eyes to Remus.

"That's just what he calls me; it's Remus, Remus Lupin."

"Wotcher. Why does he call you Moony then?"

"A certain affliction I have."

They all fell silent again as Sirius led them in another drink. Remus could feel his face growing warm with the drink, and his fingers becoming numb with the overwhelming ease he felt. Sirius wanted to hear all about Tonks's mother and father, as well as her success in school and becoming an Auror. Remus learned that she had blundered her way through school in Hufflepuff, managing to take top grades in Transfiguration, Charms and Defense Against the Dark Arts, but failing miserably in Arithmancy. Sirius kept periodically refilling their glasses, and each drink became easier to swallow. With a new confidence and daring he would not have had without it, Remus asked her a question he'd been wondering about for the past hour.

"I'm sitting here, Tonks, listening and I swear I'm watching your hair turn lighter purple. Call me insane but…"

To his surprise Tonks and Sirius looked at each other and burst into laughter, which turned her hair so light it was nearly pink.

"She's a metamorphagis, mate."

Remus laughed dumbly at his own stupidity for not guessing. He felt dumb and pleasantly numb thanks to the magical whiskey. Tonks suddenly changed her nose into the beak of a duck without warning, quacking nonsensically. Remus and Sirius doubled over in laughter, and the quacking Tonks soon joined them as her nose and mouth slowly turned back to normal. Sirius's face filled with color as it hadn't in years, and Remus was positively enjoying the sense of carefree and hilarious ease he felt. He eagerly held out his glass for Sirius to refill, snorting as Tonks changed her ears into enormous bat ears that flapped ridiculously as she laughed. They heard a clang from the other room as they were drowning their drinks, which caused a look of fearful alert to wash over both Remus and Tonks's faces.

"That'll just be Kreacher," Sirius explained, unworried, "sodden old basta…"

But he stopped and looked up in amazement and Remus followed his eyes. None other than Albus Dumbledore had entered the kitchen; his eyes twinkling in amusement as he surveyed the scene. Remus looked quickly back at Tonks, who was seated across from him. Her wild ears deflated like a sad puppy dogs in shock and Remus caught her violet eye and they both were reduced to unmanageable giggles and then laughter. Remus had to hide his head in his hands as his eyes stung with tears. He couldn't remember the last time he had laughed so hard. Certainty not once since his days as a student had ended.

"Dumbledore!" Sirius exclaimed happily, his voice wavering with a definite sloppiness. "I'd almost forgotten you were coming!"

"I see that," he chuckled, using his wand to clear the dust off an old wooden chair at the end of the table.

"Priceless, aged whiskey, Dumbledore?" he asked heartily, sloshing the ornate bottle with a cheerful grin on his red face. Dumbledore, normally sodden and serious since the news Harry had brought back two weeks ago of Lord Voldemort's return seemed amused and relaxed in the midst of such happy company.

"Maybe just a dash in some very strong tea," he consented, smiling slightly under his beard.

"There we go!" Sirius let out a booming laugh that stretched his thin face.

"I've got it!" Tonks chirped excitedly. She jumped up from her chair and immediately smashed her knee on the underside of the table, sending a cloud of dust up into their faces. Remus and Sirius coughed and snickered at her yelp of pain and her immediate and enthusiastic return to her task of making a cup of tea. She noisily bustled around the kitchen rummaging through old pots and pans in search of a teapot while Remus tried to put on a serious face for Dumbledore.

"Order meetings starting soon then, Albus?" he asked, ignoring the glass Sirius was sloppily refilling for him.

"Mhm, we've got most of the old crew stopping by tomorrow night, Doge, Mundungus, Kingsley Shacklebolt, Dedalus Diggle, Tonks here. I think I'll have the Weasley's staying, if that's alright with you Sirius, sometime later this month. Molly is determined to be right in heart of the Order."

"Is Harry coming with them, then?" Sirius asked, perking up expectantly.

"Not yet, he'll come by before the start of next term, I assure you that Sirius."

Evidently they've discussed the matter before, because Dumbledore put a note of teacher like finality on his words, and Sirius spun his empty glass gloomily, biting his lip in an apparent effort to keep from saying more.

"Here you are, sir," Tonks sloshed a cup of steaming tea in front of him, shakily pouring a small amount of whiskey in it before plopping back down on the bench across from Remus.

"Joining the Order, Tonks?" Remus asked, changing the subject.

"Of course," Dumbledore answered for her, "she will be of upmost importance in the fight. We need more like her in the ministry." He sipped his tea politely, though Remus could see him holding back a grimace at the taste. Tonks glowed at the high praise. "It seems like just yesterday I was having you dragged to my office in the dead of night by Filch for sneaking out of the kitchens with a vat of butterbeer."

Tonks flushed such a bright pink that it extended to her hair. "Hufflepuff won our Quidditch match… we had to celebrate somehow…"

"Yes but transforming yourself into the likeness of a terrified Ravenclaw first year to get out of trouble wasn't the best course of action, especially while still wearing girl's Hufflepuff robes," he chuckled, making Tonks turn an even brighter pink.

Dumbledore stayed for only ten more minutes, quickly explaining the plan of action for the meeting to take place the following night and counting off who should be in attendance. Sirius groaned loudly at the mention of Severus Snape and refilled his own glass again. By the time Dumbledore bid his farewells the sun was beginning to set on another uneventful day, and Sirius was beginning to feel the full effects of his drinking. They all stood from the uncomfortable wooden benches in the kitchen and made for the sitting room.

"Being as I haven't had a drink in 15 odd years… I'm feeling pretty good," he laughed, wavering on his feet and grabbing a cloth covered armchair to steady himself after showing Dumbledore to the door. "But I think I may just… sit… for a minute." He collapsed onto the dusty sheet, not bothering to remove it, and giggled at his own clumsiness. He pulled out his wand and began shooting small sparks from it, waving it lazily in front of him like a sparkler. Remus carefully lifted a corner of the sheet covering another couch, but after getting a good look at the rat eaten upholstery he decided it was better to sit on top of the sheet as well. A moment later Tonks fell next to him, sloshing her drink down her front. She and Remus watched Sirius's light show in silence for a few moments until his head began to droop and he dropped his wand on the floor with a clatter. Tonks turned her attention to him, narrowing her violet eyes at him, clicking her nails on her glass.

"So what's your story, Remus Lupin?" she asked teasingly.

"I'm a vicious man-eating werewolf," he answered in a mockingly serious tone, looking into her enchantingly colored eyes. She was very close to him, he could smell her hair potion over the moth ball stench of the house. She was very young and very pretty, and for the first time, since he normally invited aging happily, he wished he was younger.

She laughed and snorted before suddenly making her eyes flash from purple to bright, shimmering red. "And I'm a bloodsucking vampire," she whispered, narrowing her eyes in mock anger.

"You know, I think I'd believe that," he answered, laughing as she turned her eyes back to purple. She giggled and held his shoulder to help her stand up, barely able to stand steadily on her own. She ran a hand through her short violet hair, shaking her head for clarity.

"I'd better be going; I've got to get some sleep if I'm going to be up at the crack of dawn for the ministry tomorrow."

"How are you getting back home?" he asked.

"Broomstick," she slurred, smiling at his concerned expression. "I'm just kidding, apparating. I don't have far to go, I live just on the other side of London." She opened the front door, her wand out. "Until tomorrow night, Remus," and with a crack she was gone.

Remus Lupin listened to Sirius's snores and found himself looking forward to the Order meetings for an entirely different reason.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

Teddy sat in his bedroom, illuminated only in the weak light of his father's old wand, which was clenched in his teeth. An uncomfortable anger pulsed through him. He glanced sideways at his curtain, to make sure the heavy black impenetrable cloth was keeping out the moon light. As always, it was. He twisted and stretched his neck in discomfort, and returned to his much too enthusiastic whittling of a stick of birch he had found in the yard. The distinctly unmagical twig that he had spent the afternoon carefully carving into an 11 and a quarter inch likeness of a wand now resembled a short sharpened spear more than anything. Wood shavings covered his lap as he continued to scrape the wood down to nothingness. He scratched at his neck, trying to rid himself of the prickly feeling that lingered under his skin. An opened book, an ancient book on wand trees, given to him by his Aunt Hermoine for his 11th birthday, lay cast aside and abandon next to him. He wasn't able to concentrate on reading. He scratched at his neck and chest again. He pulled at the collar of his muggle tee shirt, groaning in discomfort.

Suddenly his bedroom door opened, bathing the dark room with light, making him hiss in surprise and wield his sharpened stick like a weapon.

"Oh Teddy, you're bleeding again," the soft voice of his grandmother came from the dark silhouette standing in his doorway. She knelt by his side and conjured a warm cloth soaked in dittany. She gently took the stick from his hand and the wand from his teeth, even as he tried to push her away. She dabbed at his scratched chest and neck. He hadn't realized he had made himself bleed. He never did.

"The first time, when you were just a teeny little baby, you kept me up all night with your crying. I was so scared for you. I wrapped your little hands in booties and tied them with spellotape, you just woudn't stop scratching. But you were okay. You were still my Teddy. You are still my Teddy. You are still you."

She always spoke so gently, just barely a whisper, as though she were speaking at a funeral. She always looked like she was grieving too, deep lines ran down her face, most of the time they looked like tears. Her sad eyes smiled at him, looking at him in the eyes. The prickly feeling under his skin began to subside under the warm dittany.

"I know Nan." It came out harsher than he meant, but she took no offense. She was used to this. His anger threatened to bubble over once she stopped speaking. When there was nothing to listen to, or nothing for his hands to do, it always threatened to explode. He closed his eyes.

"This time next week, you'll be asleep in your bed in Hogwarts. You'll sleep well after tonight. In Hufflepuff atleast, probably Gryffindor too, the house elves put warming plates in your sheets, so when you climb in… it's so warm, and so comfortable. There are waterfalls too, in Hufflepuff. They're enchanted, they always say, they sing you to sleep. If you're in Gryffindor, Uncle Harry says there's a beautiful view of the night sky, and the stars… and the moon. You can see it fading away. It's beautiful then."

When he opened his eyes and shot her an uncharacteristically nasty look, she just squeezed his hand and continued.

"It is, sweetheart. Ted and I, we used to sneak out of the dorm at night and go lay in the lawn, just outside the Great Hall. We'd stare up at it, we'd watch it come and go with time. When we apart in the summers I'd do the same thing. Whenever I had to escape the home where I couldn't so much as mention his name, I'd lay outside in the wet grass at night, knowing he was looking up at the same moon, and the same stars, no matter how far away he was." She stroked his cheek, she could feel the warmth beneath his skin, the prickles of irritation, the coarse hair that threatened to burst forth, but never did.

"He once told me, while we looked up at that moon, that if he were in charge, he'd make the world just so, as it is. With everyone in it, no matter its flaws, it was perfect."

"Mr. Scamander will be here tomorrow," he said. He suddenly remembered the arrangement, only a moment ago, when he was alone, he had completely forgotten everything. He was just angry, a different kind of angry. It clouded his brain, it confused him, if he went to long without focusing on something else it fogged his mind completely.

An ugly look flashed over his grandmother's face, but only for a moment. She dropped her hand from his face.

"Yes, he will," she said, emotionless.

"Harry say's it's a good thing. I can help other kids that might be half… you know. He says it will strengthen their standing in the world, and let them know they can be regular to, and they can marry witches, or wizards, or muggles..."

"Yes, I've spoken to him on the subject. You know where I stand, but in the end it's your decision. You're old enough to make that choice now."

He cricked his neck again, wishing for the night of discomfort to be over. "I wish there _was_ a book for me, so I knew what to expect… so I know if it's going to get worse."

That was his biggest fear, and he suspected his grandmothers too. Right now, irritation and discomfort and a dangerously short fuse was all that accompanied the monthly full moon. But he knew that it was nothing compared to what his father went through. He had owl ordered the grisliest books on transformation. He knew, when he focused on it on nights like these, that he was incredibly lucky that he hadn't inherited a more severe transformation.

"Harry says he's really nice, he's engaged to their friend Luna, the… the odd one that lives next to Mrs. Weasley."

Teddy Weasley was the first of his kind. He was certainly the first metamorphmagus/werewolf child. The only other recorded instance of a half human half werewolf baby had been Romanian baby born to a muggle woman who had been assaulted by a savage non-transformed werewolf sometime in the 1100s. The child had been born normal enough, but she was killed by her grandfather before she experienced her first full moon. Teddy knew his grandmother had turned away countless owls from the Ministry and from book writers asking to come study him, or experiment on him.

But last month, after a sleepless, particularly uncomfortable night during a full moon, a ridiculous, gigantic tropical bird squeezed its way through the kitchen window and landed clumsily in Teddy's porridge. Teddy was able to read the letter before his Nan got to it.

Mr. Scamander was an American wizard, descendant of Newt Scamander, who everyone knew in the wizarding world. He said he was helping a Canadian couple, who wanted to know if it was safe to have a child, after the husband had survived a werewolf attack in the tundra. Teddy didn't even know there were werewolves in Canada. Mr. Scamander promised he would just ask a few questions, and he said Teddy would be helping werewolf/human relations everywhere. He said he would be making his father proud if he helped him write his book. He also said he may have a few suggestions to help manage any adverse effects he felt during the full moon.

Teddy remembered how he had reread those last few lines a dozen times. He shooed the colorful bird away before his Nan came in from the garden, and stuffed Mr. Scamander's letter in his pocket. Then he hastily scribbled a letter to his godfather, Harry, asking his advice. He had to wait until midnight to tie the letter around his Nan's owl.

His father would have done the same thing, he was sure.


	3. Chapter 3

Remus sat in the long dark hallway, his back propped uncomfortably up on the stone wall, his long legs outstretched, his feet coming to rest perfectly on the opposite side. Tonks sat across from him with one short leg extended, although it stopped at least a foot before the hallway ended, and the other bent towards her. Her elbow rested on her knee, her head was held up by her fist. Exhaustion lined her eyes, which were now a deep blue, and fixed on Remus. She sighed.

Ever since Arthur had been attacked, Order members guarded the Hall of Prophecies in pairs. Dumbledore and many of the members of the Order were impassioned in their duty to guard the Hall. They now knew for certain that Dumbledore's predictions had been correct, strengthening their resolve and their optimism as Arthur lay in St. Mungos, recovering. It was decided by near unanimous vote (Snape didn't approve of spending any amount of unnecessary time with another human being) that guarding in pairs would be essential going forward. One could remain vigilant if his or her partner dozed off, and two guards were more able to fight off one of Voldemort's aides. For Tonks, who hated to be alone, the company helped to shave away at the monotonous hours spent in the dark and dull hallway.

Remus found himself generally indifferent to the company, apart from being paired with Mundungus. He tended to snore loudly, which interrupted his ability to read. He also doubted whether Mundungus had ever stayed awake while guarding alone. Tonks also inhibited his ability to read his way through the long hours of the night, as she almost constantly interrupted his thought process with endless questions. And recently he had been paired with Tonks quite frequently; he suspected Molly was behind it. Normally not a talker, and certainly not on the topic of himself, Remus inexplicably found her remarkably easy to converse with. Remus's watch was ticking extraordinarily slowly through the early hours of the morning. Tonks had spent the past hour interrogating him on the effects of Wolfsbane potion, but the conversation had lapsed into silence and he had resumed reading his book.

"Have you ever loved anyone?" Tonks asked, lazily twirling her dark blue locks, head still rested on her hand.

Remus sighed and looked up at her from his book, peering over his reading glasses at her bored expression.

"My mother and father," he answered, lowering his gaze back down to the passage on changing patronous animals.

"I meant a woman."

"My mother was a woman."

"You know that wasn't what I meant. Have you ever been in love?"

"No, I haven't," he answered truthfully, unconcerned.

"Why not?" she asked casually.

"Why aren't you Minister of Magic? Some things just don't happen."

"They could."

"Merlin, I hope not," he grinned slyly and slowly closed his book. She couldn't help a small smirk as she blinked her eyes slowly in exhaustion.

"I'd be better than Fudge. You've really never been in love?"

"Well I was rather fond of a prefect named Summer Gibson, but I think it was mostly because of the way her hair bounced when she…" he stopped short, grinning slightly when she half heartily kicked him with her extended foot. "Why, have you been in love then?" he asked to get the spotlight off his love life, although he wasn't sure he wanted to hear the answer.

"No, but I've got an excuse haven't I?

"What's that?"

"I haven't found the right person yet, but I haven't gotten much time to look yet. You, however, have had loads of time to find Mrs. Right!"

"Nobody's Mr. Right is a werewolf." Remus had never set much store in love or partnership. He'd learned early on what a werewolf's place in society was. He had simply never bothered to pursue a relationship past a month's time; it was easier to avoid certain awkward conversations that way.

"She'd still get you 29 days of the month, isn't that enough?" She actually rolled her eyes at him.

"A werewolf is a werewolf every day of his life."

"Twenty-four seven, 7 days a week? He's just always itching to bite villager's heads off? Does he always have those rotten fleas all the time too? Can he wag his tail on command?"

Now it was Remus's turn to roll his eyes. He could see by her mockingly triumphant expression that she had no fear that she may have gone too far this time. He liked that about her, she did not bother with skating around the topic of his condition like it were some unmentionable taboo. She also did not allow him to feel sorry for himself under any circumstances. More than once she had turned herself into a hideous boil faced old woman and repeatedly insisted that, 'See! It could be worse, you could look like a hag ALL the time!' while shoving her long warty nose in his face.

"Or maybe I've just been waiting for her," he told her, entirely unsure of what made him say it. He felt his face growing warm as he finished the sentence.

Tonks perked up a bit at this rare insight into the reserved and closed off Remus. "Waiting for what?"

_For her to grow up _he thought to himself inwardly, but he didn't dare say it, or even truly allow himself to think it.

"For this all to be over," he finished lamely and untruthfully, glancing around the barren ministry walls.

"It may never been over, for us anyway," she shrugged, her voice level, clearly having believed him.

"That's not a very optimistic way to look at it, is it?"

"It's realistic." Again her voice did not waver, but she did not meet his eyes as she too glanced around the dark hallway.

"Well we may not be around for the end, but at least we're around for the fight. That's more important."

Tonks sighed and stretched her leg out, so that now both of her short legs were extended next to Remus's. She picked up her light brown wand from the stone floor and began silently twirling it in front of her, emitting small colorful sparks that illuminated the long hallway in bright, shimmering light. White stars danced in Remus's eyes as he watched. He took another shuddering gulp of the horrendous Wolfsbane potion he was to finish that night for the upcoming full moon.

"Sirius did this the first time we met, remember?"

"Yeah, I remember."

"That was a fun night, we should do something like that again."

"No one's in much of a partying mood these days," he said, thinking back to the sulking, miserable Sirius that now roamed the corridors of Grimmauld Place, alone. Remus was almost never at the house anymore, if he wasn't stuck in Regulus's old room recovering, he was out working for the Order. Even his transformations, once again accompanied by Padfoot weren't the same as they had been when they were kids. It was just the two of them, old and troubled, trapped in the confines of a miserable home as beasts that yearned to run free. Remus was sure neither of them was even capable of feeling the same adventurous, carefree spirit they once had during those nights. They hadn't even bothered to get together for the past few transformations; it was easier to face those nights alone than silently relive times that were long gone and never to return.

These days, he thought, days were long, usually stretched monotonously over long hours spent alone with one's thoughts while curled up as a wolf, or watching others from above their towns. Remus found himself thinking about the old times at school often 'these days'. It seemed so odd that he and Sirius were the only two Marauders left. The infamous, invincible gang of troublemakers, there were only two left. And they were both aged and beaten down by the years that followed their school days. Being back in Sirius's company was like being with one half of a memory, and a friend. He _was_ the boy Remus had accepted as gone long ago, but he was also shadowed by the suffering that aged him. He was with, but also separated from the friend he had missed so much as though by a thick black veil that held him just beyond reach.

"No I suppose not,"

The shimmering lights from the sparks vanished as Remus jumped slightly at the soft voice that yanked him from his thoughts and brought him back to the present. He was in the long dim corridor again, facing the only thing that successfully distracted him _these days. _And she was pointing her wand directly between his eyes.

Before he could even jump in shock he was hit by her silent spell. A warm tingling sensation erupted from the place on his face where he was hit and trickled down his body like warm water.

"What the…?" he sputtered, stunned, groping clumsily for his wand. What was she doing? He felt fogged, confused… yet oddly happy. It was a moment before he realized he was grinning from ear to ear, his face almost hurt with the unfamiliar stretch. "Whaddyewdo?" he slurred, finally looking up at her. She was grinning too, her eyes darkened mischievously. She waved her wand again, and he felt his head clear and his thought process come back to him.

"Sorry," she chuckled, "cheering charm, probably shocked you too much to work."

He felt violated, and thoroughly put out. What was she playing at, suddenly hexing him without warning? What if he had believed it to be more sinister, or her an imposter, and he had retaliated and hurt her? What if they were attacked then, while his mind was fogged and confused, with a stupid grin on his face? He must have given her a dark, unforgiving look, because her curly hair dropped with her face.

"You look much better like that you know."

"Like what?" he asked irritably.

"Smiling," she said seriously, "it hides your scars, makes you look younger."

"Well I'm not young. Or trying to hide my scars."

"How did you get this one?" she grazed her wand tip along a deep scar that indented his cheek. He recoiled at the touch, and she put away her wand, seeming finally worried that she had gone too far.

"I don't know. Happened sometime before Hogwarts, I can't remember if I did it to myself or if Greyback caused it." He answered truthfully to break the silence more than anything, and to brighten her hair. He was still irritated, but he couldn't help but to notice her darkening blue hair, or her drooping curls, and he still couldn't bear to see her like that. He liked her bright hair. He studied her changes, mostly the ones she wasn't conscious of. He could tell what she was feeling by it, if he watched closely enough. And inexplicably, however she annoyed him or infuriated him he wanted more than anything for her hair to be bright, and her eyes shimmering, fixed on him. Her small hands, he wanted, so desperately, to run though his hair, messing it up like she often did, seemingly to annoy him. But she didn't reach out for him, she remained against the opposite wall, out of his reach, her eyes fixed on him, but not with the expression he told himself so often he didn't want from her, but couldn't help but to silently celebrate every time he saw it.

"I'm sorry."

"Don't be," he answered, watching a flicker of red run through her locks before returning to his book, and the silence that once again engulfed the corridor.


End file.
